THE  27Th  EDITIOn

Across a mahogany oak checker table

my date’s eyes flicker & fail to notice me 

making ceramic saucers jealous of my touch

perfected with pretty in pink Essie polish 

a gloss coat for my crescent moon cuticle 

stamped strong but flexible was what he wants 

to perform I pretend to be a superstar

making red carpet trip over me flashing

paparazzi unable to catch my poses

I can smash any interview, compete with any

gold stars & velvet ropes & let bystanders

eye up my accessories because I learned

to be real enough for a home

town double take on the main street drag

me out of this coffee shop let me twirl

away from awkward tension no one wants

 

but I love when kisses float away untouched 

from the date gone wrong & I want to laugh

cry at my footprints on the sidewalk

where he said he liked my necklace 

a gray stone teasing the space between

my breasts & I knew

he liked his view from above more

& more I imagine my fingers as feathers 

flying away I tell myself evenings can get dressed up

in pink too, I prettied up for myself and my car keys

wallet, hair tie, door knob, shoe lace

black bra under this sweater turned to a gown for 

street-red-carpet because at this point           I know

my fingers tell a tale of fancying what dates fail

to read the poetry I drag across my seam

would a bite be more sexy        he leans

in for a peck & I would rather have him

compliment my hands & their flower beds

demanding attention from street light cameras

wondering why I always smirk at the flash—

& why the light never does the geraniums

enough justice, enough attention, enough

with compliments crafted from a rom com

& try telling a joke to the flowers instead.